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sister poem

weak-winged is song
and still they walked on
tell me less or tell me more
high-born race
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
i have heard that a certain princess
i burn no incense
brother, i am fire
mysterious night
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
afraid no more, i say
in mournful numbers
a pen of steel
they in the darkness gather and ask

 



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